Jongri Sahyeon’s jaw dropped.
If the Muscle-changing Sutra was the supreme righteous technique, the Prajna Great Power was Shaolin’s greatest consummate art. How could a young man in his twenties wield a technique that even peak-level monks struggled to master?
‘This is…’ Bu Eunseol was equally shocked.
His body was paralyzed from the needles. He had exerted all his strength to move, summoning his internal energy, but why had this power manifested?
‘Is it because of that time?’ Bu Eunseol recalled the Prajna Great Power unleashed by Master Mun Dae, the head of the Sahyang Clan, in his final moments. At that time, the Prajna Great Power was absorbed into Bu Eunseol’s meridians, causing a slight clash.
He had thought little of it, but was that power still residing in his body?
“We won!” Jongri Sayu, watching from beside Jongri Sahyeon, cheered.
Since he could move despite being struck in vital points, there was no need to continue watching this contest.
“Hmm.” Jongri Sahyeon nodded.
‘No room for further doubt.’ The Prajna Great Power was a pure Shaolin technique that required at least twenty years of dedicated practice.
Unless Bu Eunseol had trained since infancy, he couldn’t possibly wield it…
Jongri Sahyeon assumed Bu Eunseol was a Shaolin lay disciple who had been infused with the Prajna Great Power by an eminent monk.
“I’ve lost.” Jongri Sahyeon gave a faint smile.
Jongri Sayu ran over, laughing.
“Young Master Baek, that was amazing. How can you move after being struck in vital points?” At that moment, a thought flashed through Jongri Sahyeon’s mind.
‘Wait, Baek Museong. If it’s Baek Museong…’
In the righteous martial world, which valued hierarchy, there were young martial artists with high prowess whose names and appearances were not widely known. Those with such high status that, if they roamed the martial world freely, even sect leaders and elders would have to bow, creating awkward situations.
A faint memory surfaced in Jongri Sahyeon’s mind.
‘The Golden True Dragon, disciple of Monk?’ Could this refined young man be the lay disciple of Monk Honghyeon, known as the Living Buddha? The Golden True Dragon, Baek Museong, who never showed himself but defeated even the previous generation’s demonic masters?
“You… you’re the esteemed disciple of Master Honghyeon?” Jongri Sahyeon’s demeanor changed.
It wasn’t because of his high status.
In his youth, a Shaolin monk who saved him with internal energy was none other than Monk Honghyeon.
Bu Eunseol played innocent, clasping his hands.
“I’m sorry. As I said, due to my sect’s orders…”
The Golden True Dragon had rarely appeared in the martial world.
And since the Needle King also avoided martial world activities, the chance of them crossing paths was slim. Thus, Bu Eunseol confidently impersonated Baek Museong.
“I understand. I understand.” Jongri Sahyeon smiled broadly and gestured to his disciples. “Guide Young Master Baek to the Heavenly Pattern Pavilion.”
The Heavenly Pattern Pavilion.
A lavish table was set there, laden with so much food it seemed the legs might break. The wine on the table was century-old plum wine, too precious even for Jongri Sahyeon to drink.
However, the dishes were made of fresh fruits and various vegetables. Knowing that even Shaolin lay disciples avoided meat when possible, he had prepared accordingly.
“How is Master Honghyeon these days? Is he well?” At Jongri Sahyeon’s question, Bu Eunseol smiled ambiguously and said, “The last time I saw him was at the Golden Emperor Pagoda in the Martial Alliance. He is healthy and well.”
This wasn’t a lie.
Bu Eunseol had indeed met Monk at the Golden Emperor Pagoda and confirmed his good health with his own eyes. He simply omitted that he was the successor of the Demon Emperor. He was speaking only the truth.
“Of course. I forgot that this year’s ceremony at the Golden Emperor Pagoda was presided over by the Master.” With all doubts dispelled, Jongri Sahyeon’s face brightened.
“Elder, may I now hear the story…”
“Oh, yes.” Jongri Sahyeon smiled and began.
“Back then, a severe plague ravaged Huangzhou Prefecture. Unable to stand by, I went there and happened to encounter the Seven-Finger Demon Blade.”
***
Treating patients all day in a medical tent, Jongri Sahyeon wiped his sweat.
To cure the plague, one had to replenish weakened qi and eradicate the plague parasites instantly. He had brought plenty of Supreme Yin Pills and Clear Spirit Powder, but the supply was woefully inadequate.
“I brought so much, yet it’s still like this.” Wiping sweat from his brow, Jongri Sahyeon looked at the distant mountains and nodded. “I’ll have to gather bamboo and elm to make Poria Ginseng Soup.”
Leaving the tent, he headed to a nearby mountain. Having gathered herbs his whole life, he could tell at a glance which herbs grew in certain terrains.
As he climbed the mountain path, he let out a surprised sound.
“Well, this soil could even grow Blood Ginseng.”
He hadn’t expected much.
But the mountain was filled with fine herbs growing everywhere. Moreover, the soil seemed suitable for Blood Ginseng, which could extend life for ordinary people and instantly boost internal energy for martial artists.
Step, step.
Walking through an untouched forest, he spotted a wide clearing midway up the mountain.
Next to it was a small cave, and beside it, a martial artist leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. His body was covered in blood, and the greatsword in his arms glinted with an ominous black light.
“Oh my.” Jongri Sahyeon exclaimed.
On the ground where the martial artist sat lay the roots of what seemed to be Blood Ginseng.
‘What a pity. He’s already eaten them all.’ Looking at the roots, he suddenly locked eyes with the panting martial artist.
At that moment, Jongri Sahyeon felt a shiver. He realized this man was a master of extraordinary prowess.
“You are…” As Jongri Sahyeon spoke politely, his eyes widened.
He noticed the martial artist’s right hand had only two fingers.
“The Seven-Finger Demon Blade…” Jongri Sahyeon’s voice trembled slightly.
The blood-soaked martial artist before him was none other than the Seven-Finger Demon Blade, Bu Zhanyang, the martial world’s greatest killing star and brutal demon.
“Dressed as a physician, yet your presence has reached the Realm of Astonishing Men…” The martial artist, Bu Zhanyang, smiled faintly.
“You must be the heir of the Needle Clan, whose acupuncture has reached divine levels.” Jongri Sahyeon’s eyes flashed.
Bu Zhanyang’s wounds appeared quite deep. Normally, he wouldn’t dare challenge him, but now, he felt he could cut his throat in an instant.
“Are you going to make a move?” Sensing his intent, Bu Zhanyang shook his head. “You must want to make a big name in the martial world.”
“No way.” Jongri Sahyeon said coldly. “But if I eliminate a great killing star like you, I can save the innocent lives you’d take in the future. How could I miss this chance?”
“Innocent lives… I see.” Bu Zhanyang, leaning against the wall, said calmly, “Then make your move.”
Instead of answering, Jongri Sahyeon drew a needle from his bosom.
“This is the retribution for your evil deeds. Don’t resent me.” He immediately unleashed the Golden Flow Essence toward Bu Zhanyang, who leaned against the wall.
Swish!
The hundred golden needles paused in the air, forming a circular pattern.
Clang!
Then, they shot toward Bu Zhanyang’s vital points from different angles and speeds.
‘Has he given up?’ Seeing Bu Zhanyang still seated, Jongri Sahyeon’s eyebrows twitched.
To block the Golden Flow Essence while standing was difficult enough, yet he was trying to do so while seated? No matter how skilled his swordsmanship, he couldn’t avoid it.
But an astonishing thing happened.
Clang!
Bu Zhanyang drew his sword like lightning, calmly unraveling the Golden Flow Essence.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Each time a black lightning-like flash streaked through the air, the incoming needles melted away.
“No way!” With a loud shout, Jongri Sahyeon spun the floating needles in a circle, unleashing different techniques again,
Slash!
With the sound of water being cut, all the needles in the air vanished. At the same time, a black blade was pressed against Jongri Sahyeon’s throat. Bu Zhanyang, having destroyed the Golden Flow Essence in an instant, closed the distance like lightning and held his greatsword to his throat.
“How…” Looking at the blade, Jongri Sahyeon was utterly shocked.
How had Bu Zhanyang, seated, broken the Golden Flow Essence? He couldn’t even sense how he had placed the blade at his throat.
‘Is the Seven-Finger Demon Blade’s martial arts at this level?’ Jongri Sahyeon’s fingertips trembled.
He had been undefeated with the Golden Flow Essence, unleashing a hundred needles with different techniques. Yet it couldn’t withstand ten moves from the Seven-Finger Demon Blade…
“…” Jongri Sahyeon slowly closed his eyes.
His eyes had failed to perceive the martial arts gap, and as a physician, he hadn’t properly assessed Bu Zhanyang’s condition.
His eyes felt utterly useless.
But something was strange. Even after a long time, the greatsword at his throat remained frozen, unmoving.
“What are you doing?” Seeing Bu Zhanyang’s stillness, Jongri Sahyeon opened his eyes and said irritably, “Kill me quickly.”
“They say the Needle King, who uses golden needles as weapons, travels the martial world, treating the sick for free.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“Killing someone like you would bring divine retribution upon me.”
Clank.
Sheathing his sword in an instant, Bu Zhanyang turned away.
“Go back.” Jongri Sahyeon wore a puzzled expression.
The Seven-Finger Demon Blade, known as the martial world’s greatest killing star, was said to be a madman obsessed with blood and slaughter. But in person, not only was his martial prowess beyond words, but his eyes were filled with a serene emptiness.
“After killing so many, are you now afraid of divine retribution?”
“Well.” Bu Zhanyang, leaning back against the wall, had eyes filled with solitude. “The dead deserved to die, and the living were worthy of life, weren’t they?”
It was incomprehensible.
Yet Bu Zhanyang, staring into the void, seemed to have transcended the ways of the world. Only then did Jongri Sahyeon realize that Bu Zhanyang, known as a ruthless killing star,
Actually carried complex stories in his heart.
“Get going.” Wiping blood from his mouth, Bu Zhanyang said, “Stay with me, and your fate might be chosen by the reaper.”
“I don’t believe in fate.” Jongri Sahyeon drew a finger-length golden needle from his bosom and strode toward Bu Zhanyang. “Eating any elixir when injured might seem helpful, but it’s not always so.”
Without hesitation, he inserted the needle into Bu Zhanyang’s shoulder.
“The Blood Ginseng you ate boosts internal energy, but its potency is too strong. For someone who’s lost as much blood as you, it’s harmful.” As Jongri Sahyeon applied the needle, the blood flowing from Bu Zhanyang’s arms and legs stopped instantly.
But the blood from his back didn’t stop.
“Take off your outer robe and turn around.” Seeing Jongri Sahyeon’s serious expression, Bu Zhanyang gave a weary smile.
“If anyone saw this, you’d be accused of being a traitor to the righteous path.”
“Where is righteous or demonic in a physician treating a patient? Be quiet and turn around.” Bu Zhanyang hesitated briefly before turning.
His back was in tatters, filled with strange hidden weapons.
“Poison Darts of the Mad Blood Poison Sect.” The weapons embedded in his back were barbed, designed to tear flesh if forcibly removed,
True artifacts of the Mad Blood Poison Sect, one of the martial world’s most sinister groups.
Click.
But as Jongri Sahyeon lightly manipulated the needle, the barbed weapons were easily extracted, and blood gushed out. Quickly sealing the blood points and applying healing salve, Jongri Sahyeon frowned.
The scars on Bu Zhanyang’s back included not only the poison darts but also traces of the supreme techniques of the Ten Demonic Sects:
The White Horse Whip and the Soul Spear.
“Are you now resorting to self-destruction among demonic factions because you can’t kill enough?” At Jongri Sahyeon’s words, a deep shadow fell over Bu Zhanyang’s eyes.
But he said nothing.
Swish, swish.
Jongri Sahyeon wrapped clean bandages around Bu Zhanyang’s back and dusted off his hands. His medical skills were such that a touch could make new leaves sprout on a withered branch. What another physician would struggle to treat in half a day, Jongri Sahyeon healed in mere moments.
“Now, there’s no debt between us.”
Dressing again, Bu Zhanyang gave a bitter smile.
“There was never any debt to begin with.” Feeling much lighter, Bu Zhanyang turned away. Then he glanced back and said, “Forget everything you saw today. For your own future.”
Jongri Sahyeon could feel it.
Those words were genuinely for his sake. The Seven-Finger Demon Blade, known as the most brutal madman in the demonic path, wasn’t actually so vicious.
“I will.” Jongri Sahyeon raised the corner of his mouth and said, “I don’t want to be entangled with a killing star like you again.”
Despite the cold words, their gazes were filled with goodwill.
A faint friendship was budding between a righteous and a demonic master, whose paths were entirely different.
